


Seconds in Heaven

by stargazingbros



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Heaven, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Sibling Incest, canon divergence because i cant read the future, post-s13, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 18:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13816509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargazingbros/pseuds/stargazingbros
Summary: Sam welcomes Dean into their heaven.Before he even opened his eyes, Dean could tell he was where he should be. He breathed in the cold fresh air that was laced with something sweet. He could feel the warmth of body heat on the nape of his neck, the pleasure of someone’s hand carding through his hair. Then, came the kiss, tender, long-awaited and oh, so familiar.Inspired by Jensen's dream of how the show would end, YOU KNOW THE ONE. This fic takes place post-Season 13 with talks of Lucifer and Michael. A boatload of angst.





	Seconds in Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Wincest Writing Challenge (Round 16), which is "heliotropes - eternal love". This fic was beta-ed by @samsexualdeancurious! Thanks Kenzi!

This was Dean’s second trip to heaven.

He remembered the first time—he had to relive past moments near and dear to him only to see those moments bastardised and ruined by angels. Dean recalled running all over heaven to get away from those dicks with wings, watching in horror when he realised none of Sam’s favourite moments on Earth involved him. That heaven felt like hell, with fewer meat hooks but triple the emotional trauma. But they were younger then, vulnerable to petty attacks and distrust that could wrench them apart. It was only years later that it occurred to him that maybe Zachariah was screwing with Sam’s memories. Dean knew better now. For years, he held onto the word “soulmate” as if it was an amulet to replace the one he had unceremoniously thrown away.

No, it was a promise. That everything will always end this way.

Dean also knew that, this time, he wanted to stay for good.

Before he even opened his eyes, Dean could tell he was where he should be. He breathed in the cold fresh air that was laced with something sweet. He could feel the warmth of body heat on the nape of his neck, the pleasure of someone’s hand carding through his hair. Then, came the kiss, tender, long-awaited and oh, so familiar.

“ _De_ ,” the other man sighed.

Dean opened his eyes and found himself lying in a wide-open field, in the arms of his dead brother.

“Sammy?”

Dean’s voice was so small as though he was afraid to say it out loud.

Then, it was all Dean could say as he held his brother close, his own body trembling with ragged sobs, planting kisses on Sam’s face that were wet from tears.

“ _Sammy Sammy Sammy Sammy_.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” hushed Sam, rocking them both gently.  “I’m here now. I’m here.”

* * *

 

“So, this is your idea of heaven, Sammy? You and me, having a picnic?’

Dean squinted to look at Sam under the bright sunlight, grinning so hard that it was starting to hurt. He was chiding his brother but there was a softness behind the tease. In fact, that was all he could be. He was soft in his brother’s arms, snuggling close into his chest as they laid on their backs to the grass. Dean was soft as he looked up to his brother, round eyes unblinking. When was the last time Sam had looked this serene, this youthful? A lifetime of pain ago, maybe. Dean was soft under Sam’s fingers as he trailed a hand underneath Dean’s t-shirt, tracing words unspoken.

Dean was never this soft back on Earth, never allowed himself the chance, never had a moment’s break to let go of the hardness he wore like an armour since he was 8. But he’s in heaven now. Their heaven. Softness was all Dean could be.

However, frankly, their heaven seemed rather empty. There they were, lying on a field of lush grass, which spread further endlessly to faraway hills. Apart from the clear blue sky, the only other feature of their shared heaven were numerous wild bushes of dark green leaves and purple flowers dotting the scenery. Dean soon learned that these clusters of flowers were the source of the sweet smell surrounding them. While this scene was more beautiful than anything they’ve witnessed in their last moments on Earth, Dean knew from first-hand experience that there was no limit to what heaven could recreate for its occupants. Heck, they had even recreated their childhood home in Lebanon down to Dean’s “I Wuv Hugs” t-shirt. So, Dean couldn’t understand why Sam would live in a glorified Windows 98 desktop wallpaper.

Sam merely clucked his tongue and smirked. Dimples appeared on his clean-shaven face, his voice encouraging.

“Oh yeah? You have a better idea, Dean?”

“Yeah. For one thing, where’s Baby?”

The minute he said it, they heard her signature rumble. Dean sat up in surprise, not expecting his beloved car to show up after death. However, all they saw was a ghost of Baby. A mirage of a black Impala, massive but near transparent, swerved in front of them before disappearing into thin air along with Dean’s smile.

Dean turned to Sam in fake annoyance. “Very funny, Sam.”

Sam simply shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face. “I’m taking down notes. Come on, what’s next?”

Dean thought for a moment. “How about …  a bar?”

“You want to get _drunk_ in heaven?”

“No hangovers in heaven, Sammy!”

Sam shook his head and smiled to himself. Dean missed this—making his little brother smile. How long has it been? Weeks, months? His grief didn’t keep track of time. A deep-rooted ache threatened to rise within him when a sudden burst of music caught Dean’s attention.

Dean turned around only to see a familiar building towering over them. The blazing signboard of the bar read, “Harvelle’s Roadhouse”. But it wasn’t the rickety, decaying and unassuming hunters’ haunt that Dean last remembered. Heaven’s version of Harvelle’s was lively. Its walls were painted in rich mahogany red, perhaps how it originally was back when Ellen’s husband was still alive, while the gleaming windows showed a blur of activity inside. Dean could hear the clink of beer bottles as a jukebox played a tune that he couldn’t remember its name. The bar was rocking with songs, laughter and joy down to its very foundations.

Suddenly, Dean felt young again, just a 20-something hunter, looking into a job from a file Ellen compiled. It was so comically simpler then. Dean’s heart was wracked with desire to run into its closed doors and fling it open. But he remained rooted to Sam.

“Are they …” Dean gulped, his throat suddenly parched. “Are they in there? Ellen, Ash… Jo?”

And just like the Impala, the bar slowly disintegrated into thin air as though it was never there. Dean felt Sam’s soft but firm hands pulling him into an embrace.

“No, Dean, they’re not there. I keep waiting for Ash to show up but …” whispered Sam softly, his hand pulling Dean’s face towards his. “Maybe he will one of these days. But for now, this is our heaven and ours alone, Dean. You and me, as always.”

Dean nodded, leaning into Sam’s touch as though his brother was a buoy that kept him from drowning. Sam’s thumb lightly traced Dean’s lips, painfully aware that the easy smile Dean wore earlier has disappeared. Sam had always been his weak spot but over the years, Dean had accumulated these smaller wounds that still hurt.

“You know,” said Dean, trying to keep the mood light, “I was kinda expecting heaven to be more like … you. I thought I would open my eyes and see, I don’t know, the library in the bunker or something. Bobby’s house, maybe. Heck, maybe even Stanford. But this?” Dean waved his arm in front of them. “Pretty non-descript for a heaven, Sammy.”

“Well, not quite,” said Sam. He leaned back and grabbed a fistful of the purple flowers nearby. Sam breathed in their sweet fragrant before plucking individual tiny flowers and gently weaving each flower in Dean’s hair. Dean let him. In fact, he scooted closer and laid on Sam’s lap for easy access.

“Yeah, also another thing, what’s with the flowers? Don’t get me wrong, they smell amazing—”

“They’re heliotropes,” said Sam. “And, get this, these flowers? They are used for their smell. The smell of cherry pie, to be exact.”

“I knew it!” Dean giggled, then his eyes widened. “Wait, did you ask for this because—”

“No, I didn’t!” protested Sam, but he was also blushing. “It just slowly appeared all over the place.”

“Right. A heaven which just so happen to smell like pie. Nothing to do with me at all.”

 Sam snorted, which garnered a smug smile from Dean.

“When I first got here,” Sam paused, suddenly realising what that meant. _When I died_ , Dean heard him say instead. Sam continued, “When I first got here, this place looked exactly the same now, except no flowers. It was an empty field then. I didn’t change anything.”

“Why?” asked Dean, in earnest. He looked up to his brother’s face, trying to gauge the words he was not saying.

“Well, it’s a shared heaven, Dean,” said Sam, avoiding Dean’s gaze. “So, I didn’t want to touch anything yet. It won’t be the same without you.”

Dean sighed. “You could have asked for anything, Sam.”

Sam bit his lip and suddenly, he looked younger than he has ever been. “Not anything. Not what matters.”

Only then did Dean notice that Sam’s eyes were brimming with tears. How long had Sam been stranded in this empty heaven alone? How long did Dean keep him waiting?

Dean immediately sat up. He cupped his brother’s face before leaning in for a deep kiss. He swallowed the gasps and the whimpers coming from his brother, he soothed the shivers in Sam’s body as he let his hands roam. He ignored the tears running down Sam’s face, his own becoming wet. When he finally broke off from the kiss, both of them breathing hard, Dean said the few words he had always said to Sam over and over again throughout their lives.

“It’s okay, Sam. I’m here now. I’ll never leave you.”

Sam, instead of smiling for joy as Dean had expected, only mumbled, “I was afraid of that.”

Dean sat back, stunned. “Wait, I don’t—”

“It’s not your time, Dean,” said Sam, his voice gaining strength even as his jaw was trembling. “Not yet.”

“No, no, no. Sam. You can’t do this to me.”

“You have to go back. It’s not over for you yet—”

“Not my time, Sammy? I’m fucking overdue.” Dean’s voice was shaking with rage. “How many times have I died and something always brings me back? I’m done.”

“You’re only here thanks to Cas, Dean!” retorted Sam. “You’re still alive out there and he’s going to bring you back. He said that—”

“Fuck what Cas said!”

“—you all are close. Close to defeating Michael. Close to killing Lucifer once and for all. You can’t give up now.”

“I don’t care anymore, Sam. I don’t,” said Dean with an angry wry smile. “They can have the world. I’m not fighting for it anymore.”

“What about the millions of people—”

“It’s not MY job to fix every single damn apocalypse—”

“What about Mom?” said Sam, quietly this time. “She’s out there, Dean. Fighting for her life and everyone else’s. She needs you.”

Sam looked on as Dean turned away, unable to reply or look back. Dean was on his knees now with his head bowed, tempted to crumble within himself. His knuckles were turning white as he fisted handfuls of grass, despair roaring through his body. Once again, his experience of heaven had curdled.

Dean knew Sam had handed him a trump card. Sam or the entire world? That is an easy choice for Dean—Dean would easily condemn and let the entire world rot to be with Sam. But Sam or Mom? How could he ever choose? She was his ultimate wish that he never even dared to say out loud until the Djinn showed him. In fact, it wasn’t just long ago that Dean had entered her brainwashed mind, pulling her away from her own version of heaven in her head. And now, Sam—his selfless, righteous little brother—was doing the same thing to Dean.

He understood now why Cas, who had been so hellbent on finding a way to kill both Lucifer and Michael, would suddenly grant him this.

“There is something else … about the flowers.”

Dean looked up, confused at the sudden topic change.

“It took me a while to figure out but then I remembered something about them. An old Greek belief,” mumbled Sam, his eyes still gleaming from the tears. “They symbolise prayers.”

Dean looked around him, realising the thousands of heliotrope flowers surrounding them. Purple flowers as far as his eyes could see, maybe even beyond. Tiny purple petals, all outreaching towards the perpetually bright sun of heaven, carrying Sammy’s prayers.

_It was an empty field then._

“I prayed for you, Dean. Every single hour. Every single day.”

Dean scrounged every bit of energy left in him and lunged at his brother. He gripped the front of his brother’s shirt and slammed Sam hard to the ground. Dean’s eyes were wild, his body vibrating with need.

“Then – let – me – stay.”

But Sam only laid there, his gaze unwavering as his decision. He held onto Dean’s wrists, but he was not pushing away nor pulling him closer. If Dean had punched him, Sam would have simply taken it. If Dean had kissed him instead, it would be the same. Sam would save the world again and again, despite himself.

“Please, Sammy,” Dean’s voice began to break, his grip faltering. “Let me stay.”

“I prayed for you, Dean,” said Sam. “I prayed that you would always be safe, that they could never catch you—”

“ _Sammy_.”

The name tumbled out of his mouth like a punch to the gut. Dean crumbled. The grief that resided within him, that one he wore for days since Sam’s death, enveloped him once again. He wasn’t ready to leave Sam again. He wasn’t ready to return to a world where Sam is not in it, not again.

“I had to watch you burn, Sammy. I carried your lifeless body to the pyre and watch you …”

Dean couldn’t finish his words. Dean could not even describe how he had felt at Sam’s funeral. How he couldn’t even stand but stayed crumpled on the dirt like a lost child as Mary held him tight. The only remaining Winchesters left. He watched his own brother burn and there was no crossroad demon nor rogue angel to reverse it.

Now, Dean was losing his brother, his lover, all over again.

Dean was waking up. He was leaving heaven.

“Sam! I can’t feel you!” cried Dean as his hands scrambled all over Sam, panicking. His mind was swaying, his eyes were losing focus. “Cas! I need more time!”

Sam simply pulled Dean in, clutching him close, enjoying their last moments together and waiting for the inevitable.

“We will see each other again, brother. I know it. And until that day comes, I’ll always be there with y—”

* * *

 

Dean woke up with his dead brother’s name on his lips.

He woke up to a small darkened motel room, just outside of Lebanon, Kansas. He could feel the scratch of the cheap pillow case under his head and hear the muffled sounds of the loud television from the room next door. Dean got up and sat at the edge of his bed, feeling deserted and very much alive. When he first went under, he was ready to leave everything behind. Now all he had was more of the uncertainty of life, alone.

Dean pat down his pants, looking for his gun.

“Hello, Dean,” said a familiar voice from a far corner of the room.

Dean groaned, his shoulder slumped. “Leave me alone, Cas.”

Cas came into view as he stepped in front of the room’s window, his face appearing in the moonlight. The angel looked almost human, exhausted but also wary. Dean didn’t need to guess where his gun went.

“I’ve done what you asked of me, Dean. It’s time to go.”

“You couldn’t just give me five more fucking minutes with Sam?” asked Dean, laughing bitterly. “In fact, how do I even know that was really him, huh? It’s not the first time I got screwed over by angels in heaven.”

Cas moved in front of Dean with a facial expression that Dean could not read. Cas held up a hand in front of him and Dean wondered if the angel was finally done with him. Maybe he was going to put him under, zap him into unconsciousness and ferry him away to the bunker with or without his consent. Maybe Cas was finally done with Dean and would smite him for good because he had been a nuisance, a dead weight, in this crusade to save mankind. Dean couldn’t care less. Dean was in heaven and his brother, his soulmate, refused to let him stay. Dean could only hope for oblivion now.

Cas did neither. Instead, he ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, a gesture so uncharacteristically tender that Dean was struck dumb.

“No, Dean, nobody could imitate Sam well enough to fool you,” said Cas finally, dropping something onto Dean’s lap.

It was a tiny purple flower. Its petals slight bruised but intact. A single prayer.

“Dean, Michael’s forces are growing what with the portals remaining open. Lucifer is slowly building his army with newly born angels. We are vastly outnumbered. We are regrouping somewhere safe so we can plan our next move. The others are already there. We’re waiting for you.”

However, Dean was not listening. He was lost in thought, staring at the flower in his open palms. The only reminder left of his moment with Sam in heaven.

“Dean, we have no time to waste—”

“Cas, _please_. Just ... five more minutes.”

Dean couldn’t tell how long he had stayed in that room, simply holding onto the fragile piece of what was left of Sam. Dean couldn’t tell when Cas had left the room but later, when he finally found the will to leave, to start over again, Dean found his gun on a side table with a note stating coordinates for their new hideout. Dean held the gun just for a minute longer before tucking it in his pants. He made up his mind.

When Dean finally left the motel, the weather was sunny and clear. He walked to his new vehicle of choice, a motorcycle with a seat for one. This was the life he would live now—no bunker, no Baby and no Sam. But as he strapped in his belongings, which could easily fit in one duffel bag, to his motorcycle, he realised that he would continue living just as Sam wanted, just as Sam wished he would.  Fighting to the very end.

“Okay, Sammy,” whispered Dean under his breath, patting his pocket where the flower currently resided. He revved up his motorcycle before speeding off onto the road. “Keep me safe, baby brother.”

 

 

 


End file.
